


Aftermath

by Spooberdem



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Gen, Grief/Mourning, No incest in here folks, first tua fic, young hargreeves siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-27
Updated: 2019-03-27
Packaged: 2019-12-25 08:36:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18257666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spooberdem/pseuds/Spooberdem
Summary: A series of snapshots documenting the Hargreeves family after Five disappears. Or, everyone is sad.





	Aftermath

**Author's Note:**

> Sup, y'all. So, yet another one of Gerard Way's masterpieces took over my life. Again. This fic is set a week after Five jumps to the future, showing the family taking the loss in their own ways. Hint: Not a lot of the siblings are taking it well.
> 
> Comments, kudos and creative criticism are welcome. This isn't beta read, so any errors are my own. Enjoy!

It's been one week.  
One week since Number Five bolted from the dinner table. One week since he disappeared, one week to see if he'll come back and one week to realize that he won't.

 

In his study, Reginald Hargreeves casually crosses the numbers '00.05' off a list as though his adoptive son was nothing more than an item on a grocery store note. The boy's disappearance, while an unfortunate event, does not hinder his plans, and so he will carry on with the remainder of the subjects he has left.

 

With a heavy heart, Pogo strikes another day through on the calendar. Reginald has instructed him to begin counting the days of Number Five's absence, though Pogo knows that it is not out of grief for Five so much as another experiment for the man to study. He voices none of his concerns to the children, but he supsects that he will be keeping track of the days for a very, very long time.

 

The house has been eerily quiet since that fateful meal, but in the training room of the Umbrella Academy, the air is punctuated by the frequent sounds of fists hitting heavy material. Luther's knuckles have been cut to bloody pieces long ago, the crimson fluid drying on his fingers, but he won't stop. Whaling on the punching bag is the only way he can let out his anger without hurting something or someone else.

_'Sir, I'm the leader. Please let me look for him, it's my responsibility!'_

Thud.

_'Number One, you have other duties more important than chasing after Number Five. You will do no such thing.'_

Thud.

' _Dad-'_

_'I forbid you to speak of Number Five! Go to your room, NOW!'_

CRACK.

The metal bracket holding the bag rips free from the ceiling, sending the heavy cylinder landing at Luther's feet. Panting, he steps back to stare at the damage he has done, defeated. How can he become the fearless leader Reginald wants him to be if he's not even allowed to look after his siblings?

 

The air around Diego is a whirlwind of knives, curved round and round his room. Every now and then, one will break free of the storm and embed itself into the wall.

Diego can't speak. His stutter comes out most when he is sad or angry, and right now he is both. Even Mom wouldn't be able to understand him if he tried.

He is furious at the world. He's angry at Reginald for forcing Five away from his family, angry at himself for not doing anything about it, angry at Five for abandoning them all in this aristocratic hellhole. Five was Reginald's prize pupil, his favorite (if Reginald ever actually liked any of them at all), and now that he's gone it means that Reginald will be harder on the rest of them.

Diego closes his fist, and all the knives fly away from him, digging into whatever surface they can reach.

 

Ben sits in the corner of the library, unnoticed. He wants to be truly alone to his thoughts, but the monsters crawling beneath his skin won't allow it.

The creatures are agitated, mirroring Ben's own emotional state. At least they have enough sense to keep quiet for now, but soon the hissings and tauntings in his mind will return. He hums an old Chinese tune under his breath, trying to distract himself from reality, but he is failing miserably.

Ben knows he's always cared too much about others, and Five's sudden absence has hit him harder than he knows it should have. Funny, he thinks wryly. The monster is the most empathetic. He doesn't think Five is dead, he's far too smart for that, but Ben is sure that wherever he is, he won't be too keen to return to the house. He's left them all here with an uncaring father. Tears stream down Ben's face, and he forces his sadness into something stronger, forces it into rage, something he's better at dealing with.

But the abominations inside of him feed off his anger, and a tentacle suddenly pulls into existence and smacks a shelf of books to the ground.

 

Vanya carefully spreads peanut butter on a slice of bread, the faint sounds of her actions seemingly echoing around the kitchen now that one person who once used it is gone. Five always looked out for her, and now she considers it her duty to do the same for him. She garnishes the sandwich with a large handful of marshmallows and sets the plate onto the table, beside a glass of milk. Vanya pads out of the room, her work done, making sure to leave the light on should Five come back tonight.

Now in her bedroom, Vanya picks up her violin, her only source of comfort left in the world, now. The song she plays is a low wail of sorrow, expressing all the emotion she can't put into words. The melody winds its way throughout the rooms of the mansion, telling her siblings that they are not alone in their grief.

 

In the living room, Grace sets a gold frame above the mantlepiece. She knows that her robotic hands will never create greater art than flesh and blood ones, but she's done her best with the portrait and feels like she's managed to capture Number Five's signature smirk quite well. Grace isn't programmed to process grief, but she can recognize signs of it in others, and she hopes that the painting will help comfort her children. It's a reminder that Five is still with them, in a way.

 

'Five? _FIVE_!'  
Klaus sifts through the spirits that never leave him alone. He's forced himself sober over the last few days for this one night, told himself not to be afraid of the dead to complete this task. He's shaking in withdrawal and in fear that he'll come across Five's ghost, mentally grabbing and releasing each spirit when he realizes that they're not his brother. After hours of frantic searching, he's satisfied that Five doesn't rest among the dead, at least not yet.

His duty done, Klaus grabs a small plastic bag from underneath his mattress and dry swallows two of the pills within. The voices fade from his ears, the spectres from his vision, and he falls into drug induced bliss once more.

 

Allison is a mess. Her hair is diseveled, her clothes wrinkled, and mascara stained tears track down her face. The facade she's built up for herself has been ripped down tonight in the face of emotion. Pacing around her room, she tries again.

'I heard a rumor that Five will come back right now.' Allison waits expectantly, but as with the last twenty times, nothing happens. Her brother doesn't magically appear. She can feeling reality struggling to bend to her will, but some other force holds it back.

Sinking to her knees on the carpet, Allison lets out a scream of frustation, hoping some higher power will take pity on her. It's not _fair_ , how the one time she desperately needs her gift to work more than any other, it won't. Beaten and torn, she lets one last whisper loose to the wind.

'I heard a rumor that Five, wherever he is, will be safe.' And this time, she feels her wish go through.  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you liked my glimpse into everyone's heads. I don't know if Diego can control the trajectory of objects to the degree I portrayed it, but the imagery is cool so screw it.
> 
> Btw, if you're following Make Some Noise or any of my other series or fics, I have nothing I can say, I'm sorry. I'm going to try and update soon, I swear!
> 
> Once again, comments, kudos and creative criticism are welcome!


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